


Well Formed and Symmetrical

by agentverbivore (verbivore8642)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe, Comics!Fitz, Crack, Crack Crossover, Curious Jemma, F/M, Jemma's POV, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 10:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3116360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbivore8642/pseuds/agentverbivore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Marvel Comics version of Fitz accidentally switches place with the show version, and Jemma is very confused by the way she feels about him. Or, more specifically, how she feels about his abs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well Formed and Symmetrical

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to know why this exists, blame Marvel Comics for drawing FitzSimmons so ridiculously in their first comic appearance.
> 
> Takes place in an AU version of season 1, sometime after 1x08. The last scene happens ca. 1x20.
> 
> Note: There are a few things that are unrealistic or slightly OOC during parts of this - but there's a good explanation for all of them. Just hang on 'til you get to that point. And Comics!Fitz is definitely not show!Fitz.

[ ](http://agentverbivore.tumblr.com/post/106806554238/i-couldnt-help-myself-even-if-i-do-prefer-the)

 

\------

 

“Excuse me, I need – I’ll be right back.” Jemma flashed the rest of the team a quick smile and hurried up the metal stairs and into the main cabin of the Bus. Once she was alone, she leaned against the wall (nearly collapsed, more like) and dropped her face into her hands. Today had not been an easy one. 

While collecting an 084, she had turned away from Fitz for a _second_ when a bright white light blinded her, the ensuing shockwave forcing her to the ground. Once she could see again, Fitz was... well. Different. Not _bad_ different, but definitely not the man who had been her best friend since he was a boy. It hadn’t taken them long to determine that the object they’d been hunting had swapped their Fitz with one from an alternate reality (which brought up about a thousand other questions for Jemma, but she was trying not to go too far into discovery-mode until everything had been set right) and then the rest of the afternoon to attempt, unsuccessfully, to switch them back.

This alterna-Fitz was still the same in many ways – same face, same striking blue eyes, same endearing Scottish lilt – but very different in a few especially prominent ones. Namely that he was incredibly well formed. At one point that afternoon, Jemma had flushed bright pink when he caught her staring at the sculpted abdominal muscles visible through his tightly fit combat suit.

She wasn’t sure whether or not it was comforting that he kept gravitating towards her while the team worked to learn more about the 084 that had brought him here. Apparently, their alternate reality contained a version of _her_ , too, with whom he’d been working at SHIELD. It was nice that some things didn’t change, she’d thought, although she wondered what alterna-Jemma was like. (Was she a biochemist? Did she have overly developed muscles and dress in skin-tight combat gear like her equivalent Fitz?)

“Hey.” A familiar voice interrupted her thoughts at the same time that a hand squeezed her shoulder, and Jemma jumped, startled out of her reverie by the sudden press of warmth. Fitz (new-Fitz? alterna-Fitz? or maybe just Fitz, because, after all, they _were_ genetically identical – she’d checked) held up his hands meekly, wincing at having disturbed her. “Sorry, sorry – didn’t mean to scare you.” 

She recognized the apologetic slump of his shoulders, but it seemed odd over all that extra muscle. “It’s okay,” she assured him over a wan smile. “I’m – I’m fine.”

Raising an eyebrow, Fitz pressed two fingers under her chin to lift her gaze to his. “Y’are not, and we both know it. Can we...” He waved one hand vaguely at the bunks. “...Talk someplace private?”

Jemma sucked in a small breath and nodded, leading the way to her bunk and then locking the door behind them. After taking a moment to center herself, she turned, watching Fitz stare critically around her room. He leaned over to peer at photographs stuck to the corkboard above her miniscule desk, and without conscious intent Jemma’s gaze drifted to the way the combat gear clung to the curve of his arse. 

“Christ, I still look like that?” 

Jemma started again, tucking a long lock of hair behind her ear to cover the sharp movement. (She had never – _never_ – looked at her best friend that way, and she had no intention of starting to now – no matter how low his body fat percentage may be or how appealing she might find the slight ripple of musculature through the combat suit’s polyester back as he stood upright again.)

“Look like what?” 

“Like... like I did at the Academy,” he said, scrubbing one hand through his hair. “You do, too. Look like Jemma back then, I mean. A couple years older, I guess –”

“Twenty-six.” She smiled slightly; her alternate self really must look different. “We’re twenty-six.”

Fitz blinked at her, mouth dropping open. “Then we’re – the same age. I – Christ,” he chuckled, collapsing onto the bed. “Did you both skip all field ops training?” 

Bristling on both their behalves, Jemma crossed her arms. “We completed our training at Sci-Ops, if that’s what you mean. Working on our research was far more important than mucking about in a training course with –”

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he interrupted, holding his hands up, palms out. “But that explains why we look so...”

“Different,” she finished for him, and then sighed. “Yes, you’re certainly that.”

A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed between them, until Fitz let out a small puff of air and reached out to pull her next to him on the bed.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her against his chest. “We’re gonna fix this.”

She stiffened somewhat when he reeled her in; it’s not that she and Fitz didn’t hug, but this Fitz was being somewhat more tactile than her best friend and it was throwing her off. Of course, her discomfort only increased when she realized that her hand had somehow come to be pressed against a firm, Captain America-esque pectoral – and then tripled when she realized that her body was reacting instinctively to this contact in a way it never had to her best friend.

Before she could process all these very disconcerting and confusing thoughts, however, Fitz had leaned down to press his lips against hers, and Jemma froze completely. Thankfully, he seemed to realize immediately that he’d done something wrong (well, not _wrong_ , per se, because his lips were much softer than she would have predicted, but certainly unexpected) and pulled back.

“What is it?” He scrutinized her face, hands (oh, lord, so much larger than she’d ever noticed before – were this reality's Fitz’s hands really that large? Would they feel like they spanned her entire back when _he_ held her this way?) spreading warmth through the thin cotton of her shirt and cardigan.

“I...” Jemma swallowed, acutely aware of the fact that she couldn’t remember when she’d _ever_ been rendered speechless. “You – um, you and I – her. You and her – do – that?” Somewhere in the back of her head her mother’s voice scolded her for butchering the English language.

Fitz took a moment to process her words, his frown of confusion blossoming into shock and a slight flush as he dropped his arms from her shoulders. “You’re not – you don’t... do... that?” Unable to form proper words, Jemma just shook her head, and he groaned, pressing his hands to his eyes. “Ah, _Christ_ , I’m sorry – I dunno why I just assumed... we’ve been, I dunno what to call it, but... that. Been doing that for years. Not exactly dating, but also not... not-dating, I s’pose. Bit confusing, to be honest.” He exhaled again and met her gaze. “I shouldn’t’ve done that, I’m sorry. Might be combat ready but I’m not exactly perfect, still,” he added with a small, self-deprecating smile.

In that moment, he looked the most like her best friend since she’d first seen him crouched in the middle of that warehouse, assessing the danger in which he’d found himself. Giving him a smile in return, Jemma squeezed his hand. “It’s fine,” she assured him. “This whole thing is a bit... weird... for everyone.” Once he’d quirked his mouth up in response, she stood, patting down her hair. “Maybe I should show you his – your, bunk. While we’re up here.”

He shook his head once more, almost as if he was still internally berating himself, and then nodded. “That’s a good idea,” he said, “gives me someplace to hide if I muck things up again.” His tone was light, and Jemma was relieved to see the bashful smile on his face when he glanced at her. The kiss had surprised her, but she didn’t want him to feel guilty about it, not really – it wasn’t his fault that she was different from the Jemma he knew.

Then, as he stood up, Jemma had to force her gaze back around to the door, trying to convince herself that what she was currently thinking was very inappropriate indeed (even if he had kissed her first).

 

\-----

 

Jemma was not prone to having difficulty sleeping, but every time she drifted off she fell right back into the same dream, something vague and heated that made her gasp as she awoke. And every time she woke up again, her traitorous mind immediately drifted to the physique of the alterna-Fitz who slept on the Bus tonight. It seemed unfair to her best friend, as if she was somehow betraying him by thinking these things, but there had never been anything between them other than fierce friendship and she’d always found that very reassuring. Or she had until about six hours ago. 

After probably the tenth time she woke up, Jemma groaned and threw off her sheets. There were still a few hours to go before May woke up for her morning tai chi, and a peaceful, solitary cup of herbal tea might be just what Jemma needed to get at least some sleep. As she padded towards the kitchen, though, she noticed that the door to Fitz’s bunk was wide open. Curiosity got the best of her and she stepped over to see if maybe he was awake.

The light was off, however, and much to her surprise he seemed to be fast asleep, despite the door having been left open. This was very unlike her Fitz (her brain stuttered at the thought – he wasn’t “hers” by any stretch of the imagination, but “the real Fitz” didn’t seem quite right either), since he valued his privacy, especially when sleeping.

Jemma couldn’t quite stop her eyes from drifting to his chest – apparently, in addition to having no concerns about teammates happening upon him in the middle of the night, this Fitz also slept without a shirt. The outlines of his muscles were just visible in the light from the hallway, and she heard her own breath hitch, as if she was having an out of body experience. She shook her head, putting one hand over her eyes. This man was almost Fitz but not quite, and she should _not_ be thinking these things about her best friend. Her best friend who suddenly resembled the physical specimens she’d admired from afar in their Academy days (and from up close more recently, on the Bus).

“Jemma?” His voice was thick with sleep, and Jemma looked up to see a familiar pair of eyes blinking blearily at her as he flipped on the dim bedside lamp. “Something wrong?”

After a moment too long of staring at him, she set her shoulders back and exhaled. “No,” she replied, stepping into the bunk and locking the door behind her. “I – I’ve been thinking.”

Fitz sat up as she edged closer to him and the sheet slipped further down his bare torso, making her wonder if he was sleeping in anything at all. 

“What you told me earlier,” Jemma started, swiping hair out of her face and trying to feel confident in the snap decision she’d just made. “About you and... the other me. I was wondering – I mean, I was thinking...” Her voice faltered and she exhaled, glancing down to where her knees were now mere inches away from his at the edge of the bed. “I want to know,” she whispered, finally meeting his gaze. “He and I, we never... but I want to know what it would be like with... between us.”

His eyes swept along the length of her body before meeting hers again, and he reached out to grab her hand, slowly twining their fingers together. “Alright,” he murmured, tugging her forward so that she stood between his knees. “I think I know what you mean, but – just so we’re clear.” His other hand came up to her cheek, gentle in a way that was so like her best friend and yet promised so much more than his touches ever had. “You want to know what it’d be like. D’you want me to _show_ you?” 

Jemma inhaled sharply at the way he watched for her reaction, and then leaned in, answering just before their lips met: “Yes.”

Stepping forward until her shins hit the bedframe, she curled her hands along the top of his neck, thumbs just brushing his jaw. A low groan rumbled from the back of his throat at that and he took the opportunity to slant open her mouth, changing what had initially been a rather chaste kiss into something much deeper. Warmth pooled in Jemma’s stomach at the way his tongue slid against hers, his hands smoothing up from her waist to leave a trail of heat up her spine, and she finally pushed away her doubts. Leaving aside all the logical concerns to which her brain kept returning, she straddled Fitz’s lap on the bed, briefly amused and relieved that she felt the elastic band of his boxers through the thin cotton of her pajamas (at least this Fitz didn’t sleep naked). 

Surprise flitted across Fitz’s face at her movement – bringing them closer, so close, not quite close enough – but he made a small noise of approval as she turned her attention to the skin of his neck. His breathing hitched as she sucked and licked at his pulse point, and she let her hands wander up and down his torso, his sides, his back, mapping out the musculature that she found so frustratingly appealing. As she was wondering what the skin over his abdominals tasted like, he slid his hands down to grasp her arse and pull her hips firmly against his. Jemma gasped, forgetting entirely about her previous task as this action pressed his now-evident erection directly against where she most wanted it and tingles of pleasure shot through her nervous system. Suddenly desperate for more, she rotated her hips, rubbing herself rhythmically against him and releasing small, pleased whimpers at how well this was working. 

“Oh, _God_ ,” he groaned as she ground back against him, “I’ve never been able to resist you.” He sounded just like her best friend but with lust thickening his accent, and Jemma couldn’t stop the groan that escaped her at the sound. So much about this was wrong, but, _hell_ , it felt so bloody good.

Capturing her lips again, he lifted his hips to press more firmly against her movements, and she panted into the kiss, acutely frustrated that there were so many barriers between them. Intending to fully disrobe, Jemma pulled back to lift off her camisole and toss it away. But as she managed to get her pajamas and underwear just under the curve of her arse without removing herself from him, Fitz slid his tongue against one nipple and his fingers found the other, and she froze, choking out a surprised moan. Her hips bucked forward of their own accord at the feeling of his mouth on one breast, adept fingers teasing the other, and she fought to take in a breath as the simultaneous press of him against her clit through their clothes made her almost dizzy with wanting. Somewhere in the back of her head, she was aware of the picture she must present, fingers now curled into his hair to keep his attention focused on her breasts and pajamas just far enough down to bare her arse as she writhed against him, and yet she could barely get herself to care.

Finally, though, enough of her sense returned that she realized she could ease some of that ache if she just got rid of her damned clothes. With that thought, she tilted his head up, gave him a short, heated kiss, and then stepped away long enough to shuck off the last of her clothes. He took the hint and stood, pulling off his own boxers and watching avidly as she straightened – now completely nude – and turned back to him. The way he looked her up and down was eager and a little wolfish and almost precisely the way she’d never realized she wanted Fitz to look at her. For her part, Jemma let her eyes wander to the rest of his frame, the way his muscles stood out in the room’s sharp shadows, defined and firm and almost impossibly well formed. She couldn’t help the way her breath went shallow at the sight of his cock, flushed in arousal and perhaps giving credence to the immature assumption that men with large hands were appropriately well endowed (was this true for her Fitz, as well?). 

After a moment, he reached out and pulled her to him, skin sliding against skin as she balanced up on her tiptoes to kiss him again. His torso was taut and heated and his arousal pressed insistently against her, making her shiver in anticipation at the thought of where it would be shortly.

“Tell me what you want, Jemma,” he murmured against her lips, sliding one hand down to palm her arse and the other up to her neck. “Tell me if you don’t want something, or if you do, just - tell me anything. Everything. Alright?” 

“You,” she answered immediately, punctuating her words by nipping at the skin of his neck. “Me. Together.” It may not have been a full sentence, but Fitz certainly got her meaning as he nudged her back onto the bed and then stretched himself out over her. Rather than center himself between her legs, which she had opened for just that purpose, he lay half over one side as he returned his mouth to hers, allowing him space to touch and tease her as he pleased. They lay pressed together, with Jemma trying to move closer and Fitz staying where he was, giving her breathless kisses as one hand wandered over her over-sensitized skin, from her cheek to her hips to her breast and then away again. 

She felt his hand eventually, slowly, finally slide between her thighs to where she almost ached with arousal, her hips twitching up as his fingers barely skimmed over where she was wet and wanting. He made one long pass between her folds and then groaned, pressing his teeth lightly against her collarbone, which drew a loud whimper from her. “Christ,” he muttered, his warm breath making her tremble. “You’re so...” Fitz cut himself off with another low, indistinct noise, and Jemma moaned as he slicked the pad of his thumb against her clit, sending waves of pleasure radiating out through her entire body.

“There,” she panted, shifting one leg over his to open herself up to his touch, as much as he would give her. “Again, God, _there_ –!” He did as she instructed, continuing to make firm, slow circles over her clit as he used the rest of his fingers to tease at her folds. It didn’t take long for Jemma to feel her orgasm start to build, sending small foreshocks through her limbs as her hips stuttered restlessly against his hand. She was dimly aware that small noises and whimpers and gasps were coming from her throat, but she couldn’t have stopped herself if she’d wanted to, so focused was she on every point of contact with Fitz.

Her fingers tightened in his curls and suddenly she needed more, needed to feel him come apart under her hands just as much as she wanted to fall apart in his. “Now,” she gasped out, trying to pull him over on top of her, “I want you _now_.” Instead of complying, however, he just chuckled against where he was nipping, licking, and toying with the skin of her neck and slid two fingers into her. A low whine worked its way out of her at the loss of his touch to her clit, but the thought flew out of her head almost immediately when he managed to find that rough, sensitive spot inside her and her vision blurred out, the pleasure sharper than what he’d been coaxing out before. She bit into her lip to muffle the loud moan that almost worked itself out and her fingers tightened around his bicep – but, for a moment, she was thrown by the tautness of the muscle, having subconsciously expected not this over-definition but the softer firmness of _her_ Fitz’s arms.

The Fitz currently beside her continued to stroke steadily against that spot inside her, though, and her confusion dissipated almost as fast as it had appeared, subsumed by a haze of desire and the heat coiling within her. Before she realized what he was doing, he began kissing and licking his way down her torso, moving his other hand to roll one nipple between his fingers. “Fitz, where are you –” But then his tongue pressed against her clit and she cut her question off with a choked moan, her back arching sharply off the bed and hips bucking upward to chase the feeling. He didn’t stop, moving his fingers within her in tandem with the rhythmic slide of his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves, pushing her just to the edge of orgasm in seconds.

She forced her eyes open, breath coming out in sharp, fast pants, but then almost had to look away when she met his eyes where he stared up at her, their blue dark and heated even in the dimness of the lamp. Just then, he hummed, and Jemma’s climax washed over her with a sharp shock of pleasure, her whole body thrumming with endorphins and tremors spiraling out to her every limb.

As she caught her breath, Fitz slid back up to trail soft kisses along her shoulder, clearly intending to let her come slowly back to her senses – but Jemma didn’t want that. She still wanted to be with him, see what she did to him – so before her body had even stopped shivering, she pulled at one of his arms, setting his face before her. “I want you – _now_ ,” she said, using the same stern tone as when she needed him to do something that made him squeamish in the lab. His eyes widened. Apparently even this alterna-Fitz recognized that tone, and he let her push him over onto his back. 

Without waiting for further discussion, and noting the twitch he made when she wrapped her hand around him, she centered herself over his cock and sank slowly down, the slickness from her own orgasm and arousal easing the way. He felt so hot inside her, stretching her in just the right way as she held him as deep as he could go. Fitz released a long, gasping groan, jaw dropping and hands clutching desperately at her hips.

“Fuck,” he breathed, pupils blown wide as he watched her take him in, “that’s so – you feel so –” She clenched around him and a high-pitched moan escaped his throat, making her grin over her own pleasure. This is what she’d been missing – seeing his desire for her. 

So rather than beginning to move, Jemma stretched her arms behind her head, rotating her hips slowly as she watched him. The feeling of him inside her was incredible, sending tendrils of lust curling up through her whole body, and that coil began to tighten again. His breath hitched when he realized what she was doing and he let out a sustained groan, his hips trying to stutter upwards. She watched his eyes dart from her face to her breasts to where they were joined, as if he couldn’t decide what to focus on, his expression mixed with desire and something more familiar – something like admiration or wonder.

Finally, she brought her hands down to rest on his torso, taking a moment to run her nails over the ridges of his sculpted abdominal muscles before using him to steady herself as she lifted her hips away and then lowered herself back onto him. Once she began moving in earnest, the ability to think completely left Jemma, her hips speeding up to make that delicious friction happen over and over again. The instinctive noises escaping from Fitz’s throat just encouraged her further, and she licked her lips, loving the way his eyes had half-glazed over. He was completely consumed by lust for her, and she wanted to keep him that way for as long as possible. 

“Is this what it’s like, Dr. Fitzy?” Jemma almost had trouble speaking, so completely distracted was she by the feeling of him sliding in and out of her, the hardness of his cock doing dizzyingly wonderful things to her. Her voice was low and breathy, and more than a little smug at how quickly she’d been able to make him lose control. “Is this what you wanted to show me?”

“God, yes – just, keep –” She tightened around him purposefully, and he cut off on another sharp moan. “Fuck,” he gasped out, digging his fingers into her hips.

Jemma was so enthralled by the way he watched her that she didn’t focus on the fact that he had braced his feet against the bed. That is, she didn't until he used this new leverage to thrust up as she sank down, the extra force and altered angle meaning that he hit a spot inside her that made her go cross-eyed. 

“ _Fitz_ ,” she cried out, a whimper escaping at every thrust he made, her own movements quickening as they both inched closer to orgasm. Just as she was thinking that she could keep going, that she could make this last a little longer, one of his hands abandoned its grip on her hip to slide his thumb over her clit, the sensation catching her off-guard and pushing her right to the edge of her climax. 

“C’mon, Doctor Simmons,” Fitz gritted out, his hips snapping up and driving him rapidly into her. “Come for me.” Jemma caught his eyes just as he spoke, and the combination of that look and his voice was so hot and unexpected that with one last buck of her hips her entire body tensed, sending her moaning into her release. Her walls tightened around him repeatedly in the throes of her orgasm, and it only took a few more hard thrusts before he came, hilting inside her. 

The pulse of his completion and the sporadic twitches of both their hips that brought him further in gave Jemma one little, final spasm of pleasure, and sapped the last of her energy. She dropped onto his chest, resting her cheek against his sweat-slicked skin and running one hand against his arm as she waited for his shivers to slow. A knocking echoed somewhere behind her, but she ignored it, closing her eyes and wanting to bask in the aftermath of really excellent sex.

“Simmons!”

She squeezed her eyes more tightly closed, not wanting to hear that voice or the even-more insistent banging.

“Simmons, _wake UP!_ ” 

Jemma’s eyes flew open, breath whooshing out of her lungs as she processed the ceiling of her own bunk and the dawn light peeking into the room from underneath her window shades.

“Simmons, I swear to _God_ I will break this door down if you’re not –”

Tugging down her pajamas where they’d somehow gotten all bunched in between her thighs, she stumbled quickly out of bed to pull open her bunk’s door. Skye stood on the other side in her own pajamas, eagerness lighting up her face when she was clearly otherwise exhausted.

“Coulson knows how to get Fitz back.”

 

\-----

 

After spending most of the night making phone calls, Coulson had finally managed to track down Professor Randolph – they’d all suspected that the 084 was Asgardian, considering that the episode with the dark elves had been the last time SHIELD had dealt with dimension and/or universe-hopping. Thankfully, Randolph was able to give Coulson instructions on how to reverse the 084’s effect – apparently it was incredibly easy, not that any non-Asgardian would’ve been able to work it out. 

Everyone was standing in the loading bay, waiting for alterna-Fitz to finish securing his gear, and Jemma stood to the side with her arms crossed. A flush kept threatening to tint her cheeks and she absolutely _refused_ to let that happen now, especially since she was so close to having her Fitz back again. The dream had been... enjoyable, she had to admit, but there was a certain level of discomfort with which she was left upon waking, and she suspected that this was because it had been about the wrong Fitz.

His equipment secured, Fitz glanced over at Jemma, made a quick gesture for Coulson to hold on a moment, and then padded over to her.

She gave him a warm smile, keeping her arms hugged around herself. “Ready to go home?” 

He grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I mean, s’been nice meeting you all but – I kinda like my universe.”

“And your Jemma,” she teased.

Despite the lightness of her tone, he didn’t quite react as she’d hoped, instead ducking his head and shifting so the rest of the team couldn’t quite see his face. “About that... I just wanted to, y’know, wish you two the best.” He winced, as if his words weren’t quite what he’d intended. “I mean, I hope that you work everything out. If there’s something to work out.”

Jemma’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, and then she swallowed, giving him a brief nod. “You, too.” 

Fitz studied her, gaze lingering on her eyes, until he seemed to decide something and smiled, turning back to Coulson. “Alright, sir, fire it up.” He crouched in a runner’s start position, and Jemma couldn’t help but note how well-trained he was – and how unlike her Fitz.

A white light engulfed the loading bay and Jemma stumbled back without falling, prepared for the shockwave this time. When she opened her eyes, she saw a familiar, thin figure on the ground, propped up by his arms from where he’d fallen on his arse. Before anyone else could get their bearings, she ran forward and threw herself at him, knocking them both backwards onto the metal grating.

“You’re home,” she muttered into Fitz’s ear ( _her_ Fitz, she let herself think now, because that’s who he was, really), squeezing her arms around his shoulders as tightly as she could. “You’re okay.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, arms coming up to return her hug. “I’m alright, I’m back.”

A quiet “ _awwww_ ” echoed from Skye’s general direction, and Jemma made herself pull away from her best friend, willing away the tears of relief that threatened to fall. She couldn’t quite get enough of looking at him, she decided, taking in his familiar, lean form, all clumsy angles and dazzling blue eyes. And even though she’d never really noticed it before, his face was particularly symmetrical.

“Are you hurt?” Instinctively, she watched him as he stood up, trying to see if he was moving at all stiffly.

“No, I’m fine,” he muttered, looking perhaps a little wounded at the implication that he couldn’t go a whole day alone without getting injured.

“Fitz,” Coulson interjected, drawing both their attention. “The Hub wants to debrief you first via video in my office, then you’ll update the rest of us. You’ve got five minutes.” He shifted as if to turn away, but smiled first. “Good to have you home.” 

Fitz nodded, shifting his bag to the side as he glanced back at Jemma. “I’ll see you after, then.”

“Yeah,” she said, offering him a reassuring smile and giving his shoulder a quick squeeze. Jemma watched him traipse up the stairs, thinking about all the things they had to talk about after this ordeal – and the decision that she had to make.

 

\------

 

_Three to Six Months later_

 

Jemma nuzzled into Fitz’s neck, her lungs still straining to draw in air and the sweat just beginning to cool against her skin. The motel air-conditioning hadn’t seemed adequate a few minutes prior, but now it was making her wish she’d thought to grab one of the blankets they’d knocked onto the floor.

She could feel him heaving in breaths just as she was, and chuckled at the way he was staring up at the ceiling, mouth hanging open. “Just as good the fifth time around, hm?”

“ _Good_ ,” he managed to squeeze out, his voice hoarse as he reached up to grab the hand she’d laid over his bare chest. “Just _good_? For God’s sake, Jemma, I don’t – can’t...” His jaw worked silently and she laughed again, reaching up to kiss his cheek.

“I’ll take your sudden inability to communicate as a good sign, then, from now on.” She intended to cuddle in for the foreseeable future, but he stretched away to look at her, a wide, sweet smile making its way across his face. “What?”

“I – no, nothing, really.” He shook his head, settling back into the pillows and pulling her with him. “Just – you said from now on.” 

“Yes,” she said, wrapping herself around him and stretching into the way his hand was stroking up and down her back. “From now on.” They settled into a comfortable, post-coital silence, although Jemma’s brain wasn’t still for long (it never was). “You know, it’s thanks to you that we’re here.” When he raised an eyebrow, she gave up on really cuddling and leaned up to kiss him again. “Alternate reality you, anyway.”

 “Oh,” he chuckled against her lips, “yeah, thanks, me.” Jemma hummed and closed her eyes, sliding her tongue lazily over his bottom lip and into his mouth. Sometimes, it felt like they’d been doing this for years, and others – like now – she couldn’t understand how they hadn’t been together all along. 

“Do you ever think about him? Y’know, other me?” Fitz was clearly distracted, smoothing one hand gently through her hair and around her shoulder, but the question caught Jemma by surprise and she choked on the air she’d just inhaled.

“What?” Her voice squeaked and she tried desperately to get her expression under control.

Perplexed by her reaction, he studied her face before repeating himself. “I was just wondering if you ever thought about the other me...”

“No,” she answered too fast, and Fitz let out a small snort, a flush working up his neck.

“That’s a yes, then.”

“No!” Jemma sighed, and pulled herself up to look down at him. “I mean, okay, yes, once, but before we – you know. Not since then, never. I promise, Fitz.” He paused, eventually nodding; her weakness at lying was at least good for ensuring that she didn’t need to do much convincing when she was telling the truth. A touch of hurt still flickered behind his eyes, though, so she leaned in to press her lips gently against his, trying to pour all of her feelings into the kiss. Jemma had never been especially good about sharing her innermost thoughts, but _this_ she could do. “I only want _you_ , Fitz. Not some ridiculously built-up, frighteningly muscly version of you. I love you just the way you are.”

Fitz smiled up at her almost in spite of himself, eyes shining in the dim lamplight. After a long moment, he ducked his head, laughing. “I can’t believe you just quoted _Bridget Jones’ Diary_ to me.”

Jemma grinned, tracing patterns on his chest. “Okay, I didn’t think you’d notice that. And you’re definitely the Bridget of this relationship, anyway.” 

His mouth dropped open and he huffed in indignation. “Oh _really_?” In seconds, he’d flipped them both over, pinning Jemma to the bed and kissing her through the giggles. “We’ll see how you feel about that after your third orgasm.”

Unable to stop her laughter, she tipped her head back, carding her fingers through his curls as he kissed down her neck. “Oh, _Fitz_ , I really don’t...” But then his thumb circled her nipple, causing it to tighten instantly and a frisson of heat to curl through her, and she inhaled a sharp breath. She could feel his smug smile against her skin, but couldn’t quite bring herself to think of a good comeback, not with his lips and hands so effectively distracting her again. Sometimes, Jemma thought as she reached down to clutch at his arse, she really was very thankful for Fitz’s hands.


End file.
